


A Classy Guy

by taverntales



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taverntales/pseuds/taverntales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krem always knew he had two left feet, but he never regretted until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Left Feet

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a post by kurgy on tumblr and kinda spiraled out of control.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem always knew he had two left feet, but he never regretted until now.

The Winter Palace was nothing and everything like Krem expected. It was opulent and over-extravagant, with a note of danger lying just beneath the surface. Krem felt completely out of his element. Growing up as the son of a poor tailor, he understood very little of court intrigue and politics. In the army and the Chargers it was easy to tell friend from foe; the enemy were the ones running towards you with an axe aimed at your head. Here enemies and allies all dressed alike and smiled while they slipped a dagger in your back, or poison in your drink. The whole thing set Krem just a little bit on edge.

He tugged at the collar of his red Inquisition uniform. He would have given anything to have his armor on, but that wasn’t an option. Apparently the Inquisition couldn’t just warn the Empress and cancel the ball, which seemed silly to Krem. To simultaneously save the Empress and win the court’s approval they had to play The Game. The Grand Game, honestly. Similar things happened in Tevinter, but at least they didn’t call it a game. Krem rolled his eyes at the thought of it. Why couldn’t nobles just be direct? It would save everyone a great deal of trouble. So he wore his dress uniform instead. It still felt like there were not enough layers between him and all the strangers, and it made him nervous.

Krem scanned the crowd for suspicious characters. Finding nothing, he decided to find the Chargers. While the Inquisitor’s inner circle seemed to be mingling well with the court, he doubted that his fellow mercenaries were enjoying themselves. He found Dalish in the courtyard looking about ready to murder the noblewoman in front of her. He heard the noblewoman demand the elf get her a drink just as he sidled up next to his fellow Charger.

“I’m not your damn ser-”

Krem swooped in and pulled Dalish away from the woman, saying, “There you are, I need you to come with me. It’s an emergency.” He quickly steered Dalish away before blood could be spilled. He sighed in relief when they put enough distance between them and the other woman.

“That damn shem-” 

“Shush. There are eyes and ears everywhere here,” he whispered, trying to calm Dalish down.

“But she-”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “Lower your voice. This place is dangerous and the Inquisition needs to make a good impression tonight.” Dalish screwed up her face as if she had swallowed a lemon. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Look, it’s just for the night, and then we’ll never have to be here again.”

“Fine,” Dalish sighed in defeat. “I wish Skinner were here. Fucking shems.”

“I know Dal, I know.” He patted her shoulder before leaving her to find Iron Bull. He found him in the ballroom, standing next to the banquet table. “Enjoying yourself Chief?” Krem sniggered when Bull turned around with a cream puff in his mouth.

“Krem,” the Qunari responded, the words muffled by layers of flakey pastry.

“Oh, yeah. Have you tried the cheese dip yet? It's great.”

“Chief, aren’t you supposed to be, you know,” Krem made a vague gesture. “Conducting Ben-hassrath work? Gathering information, spying and such?”

Iron Bull frowned, nibbling on another treat. “Nah, it’s a mess. Can’t find out much when everyone’s lying about everything from their politics to their sex life. How about you? Enjoying the night?”

“The sooner we leave the better. Dalish is about one conversation short of shoving her ‘bow’ up some noble’s backside. I doubt the rest of the Chargers are any happier,” Krem sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just glad Skinner’s not here, or we’d all be arrested for murder by now.”

“Good thing she’s not here then.” Bull pointed over his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I think you’ve got a few admirers.”

“What?” Krem followed Bull’s unsubtle pointing to a group of women. They were looking in Bull and Krem’s direction, whispering to each other behind their fans. When Krem looked their way they turned to each other, giggling. “It’s probably you Chief. Bet they’ve never seen a Qunari before. Maybe they want to ‘ride the bull’, like you’re always going on about.”

Bull snorted. “I don’t think so. They’ve been staring at you pretty much since we got here. Besides, they’re Orlesian. I think they’d prefer _Aclassi_ guy.”

Krem groaned at the joke. “You never get tired of doing that, do you?”

“Nope. Now go and have a good time. Just make sure no one stabs you in the back.”

“Right,” Krem sighed, walking away before Bull could make any more jokes. Maybe he’d just stand next to Grim for the rest of the night.

* * *

The women had indeed been watching him all night. “Who is that dashing young man?” an Orlesian baroness whispered behind her painted fan.

“No idea. He is handsome though,” another lady remarked. All the women nodded in a solid consensus. They speculated as he talked with the Qunari at the banquet table.

“He must be part of the Inquisition. Look at how both of their uniforms match!”

“Perhaps a noble? Maybe from Orlais? He has quite a fashionable hairstyle, just like the Grand Duchess.”

“He certainly is not Orlesian,” the baroness replied haughtily. “Otherwise I would know him.”

“A soldier then! Can you imagine him in full plate, riding up on a white horse?” Lady Vidmark fantasized, blushing and fanning herself exuberantly. The baroness turned to one of the Antivan ladies in the group.

“Lady Yvette, do you know that man? Surely your sister must talk of the Inquisition.”

“She hardly says much in her letter, Baroness,” Yvette replied. "She is here tonight though, I shall ask her! I will be right back!” The woman scampered off to where she had last seen her sister. “Josephine, Josephine!”

The women turned to continue speculating about the man. “Perhaps he is the Inquisitor’s lover?” a Nevarran lady pondered.

“Don’t say such things!” Lady Vidmark cried, “My heart would surely break to know that ox-woman ensnared such a fine man!”

“Well I am tired of simply standing here and guessing. I intend to speak with him.” The baroness marched towards Krem while her friends followed, excitedly babbling about him.

* * *

Grim didn’t seem to want any company, and Dalish had completely disappeared, so that left Krem standing at the edge of the ballroom, awkwardly nursing a flute of champagne. He was bored, watching the bubbles rise in the glass when several pairs of expensive looking shoes entered his line of sight. Looking up, he found several women standing before him. He recognized them as part of the group who had been staring at him and Bull earlier in the evening. One of them in a high collared, ruffled dress stepped forward.

"Good evening Ser,” she stuck out her hand. “I am Baroness Derine.”

“How do you do Baroness.” Krem gently grasped her hand and kissed it.

“And what is such a handsome man doing standing in a corner?"

"Um,” he fiddled around with his champagne flute. “Just admiring the palace, my lady."

“And who are you escorting this evening, Ser-?”

“Aclassi, madam. Cremisius Aclassi.” He coughed awkwardly into his hand. “No one, actually. I came alone. Well not alone, with the Inquisitor.” The women all perked up at those words. “Well not with the Inquisitor, I mean as part of the Inquisition.” Krem grew more flustered the more he talked. He had no idea what to say and neither apparently did his mouth. “And who are these ladies with you?”

The words seemed to be some sort of cue, as the other women pressed forward, each of them trying to speak over the other.

“I am Lady Vidma-“

“How do you do-“

“Are you seeing anyone-“

In their over eagerness, one of the women fell forward into Krem. As her hands came into contact with his chest Krem became acutely aware of his binder and he panicked.

"Excuse me!" he blurted out, voice breaking. He removed the woman’s hand before dodging around the group and all but running away.

* * *

Yvette stamped her foot. She had found her sister and had been about to ask her about the young man when the Inquisitor introduced herself. In her excitement to meet the Herald she completely forgot to ask her sister about the gentleman in question. Yvette had just returned from talking to her sister and the Inquisitor, only to find her friends had left without her. 

She weaved through the crowd, trying to find them when she ran head long into someone else.

* * *

In his haste, Krem wasn’t looking where he was going, and ran headlong into someone. The other party cried out, and without thinking, Krem reached out to catch them. In his disoriented state he overbalanced and toppled down alongside his accidental victim. Krem made a quick mental assessment of himself. No broken bones or open wounds, but his hip would definitely be sore in the morning. The smell of violets and a groan from beneath him caught his attention. Looking down he found a young woman beneath him. “I’m-I’m so sorry!” he stuttered. “Are you hurt?”

“I don't believe so!” she replied breathlessly, the hand not clutching his sleeve pressed against her chest. It is then than he realized that they were in a fairly compromising position, he was practically lying on top of her. Blushing, he leaped up and extended his hand to her. She took it graciously and righted herself with his help.

Once they were both standing up and the adrenaline was running off he noticed that she didn't appear to be Orlesian. Behind the lace mask her skin was more tanned than most Orlesian nobles and her accent was different. If he had to guess, she was Antivan. Remembering his manners, Krem took her hand and bowed at the waist before kissing it. "I’m so sorry for bumping into to you. I should have been watching where I was going."

"Not at all.” She blushed, bringing the hand he’d kissed to her cheek and giggling. “Though if you'd like to make it up to me you could tell me your name."

“Cremisius Aclassi, my lady.” He saluted out of muscle memory before realizing it.

"You're a soldier I take it," she laughed, and Krem blushed, a bit embarrassed.

"Formerly, my lady. I'm currently the lieutenant of Bull's Chargers."

"A mercenary!" She gasped eyes widening.

"Yes, my lady."

"How exciting! You must have many interesting tales to tell." She gestured at his arm. “May I?” He extended it to her and she looped her arm through Krem's. "You must tell me some. My sister writes much about the Inquisition but she never really says anything," she pouted. They began to walk around the edge of the ballroom with no destination in mind.

“I’ve never heard your accent before. Where are you from?” she asked.

“The Tevinter Imperium, my lady.”

“Oh!” she cried in excitement, arms squeezing his bicep a bit. “I’ve never met someone from there! What is it like? Is it true that there are blood orgies nearly every month?”

Krem sputtered, taken aback by Yvette’s question. “N-no, not that I know of, my lady.”

"Oh, a pity.” She covered a mischievous grin behind her hand.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you?” He asked in disbelief.

“Your face!” She laughed heartily, a little snort escaping. “I asked the same thing of the Inquisitor. My sister was so scandalized when I asked Lady Asaara. It was almost as funny as her reaction when I asked if my sister and the Inquisitor intended to elope to the Anderfels and become grey wardens!”

"You didn't!"

She nodded, biting her lip and trying to compose herself. It ultimately failed and the pair laughed until both of them were red in the face.

“You have a strange sense of humor my lady.”

“So I have been told. You mustn’t be so formal Ser Aclassi!” She patted his arm. “Please, you must call me Yvette."

"Then you shall have to call me Cremisius, Lady Yvette."

"Deal."

They continued their conversation for some time, her talking of her schooling in Orlais, and he of his mercenary excursions. In the middle of their conversation the music changed from a minuet to a waltz and Yvette steered him to the balcony. “I love the waltz. Of course I love all dancing, but waltzing is definitely my favorite.” Yvette watched the dancers, swaying along with the music. She turned to Krem, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Ser Krem, you must have the next dance with me! If you say no my heart will surely break.”

“I’m sorry to say I’m not much for dancing,” he replied, shoulders drooping. He had never really thought much of dancing and now he sorely regretted never learning. “Never learned, besides I've got two left feet," he smiled sheepishly.

“Such a shame,” she pouted, genuine sadness bleeding into her voice. “A handsome man like you should be sweeping ladies off their feet!” He felt a bit of heat rise in his cheeks at her words. Her face suddenly lit up as an idea popped into her head. “I could teach you! Yes!” She hopped excitedly, turning to her companion and beaming. “And in return you shall tell me more about your adventures!” He smiled back shyly, taking her hands in his.

“I should like that very much, Yvette.” She smiled bashfully and he had a goofy grin on his face to match. Before either of them could continue speaking a voice called out from across the room.

“Yvette, Yvette!”

Yvette turned towards the voice. “Oh, my sister!” She turned back to Krem. “We must meet again so I can teach you. Promise?”

“Promise.”

She reached up onto her tiptoes and kissed Krem on the cheek.

“It's a deal then!” Yvette dashed off, but not before turning back to wave at Krem. He waved back, stunned, his face as red as his uniform. For the rest of the night it felt as if he were on a cloud. Even after all the chaos that occurred that night, Krem still walked all the way back to Skyhold as if he was walking on air, humming a waltz the whole way. Iron Bull tried to weasel out the reason for his good mood but Krem didn’t say a word. He wanted to keep this little secret to himself. He dreamed about dancing with Yvette the whole night and it wasn’t until the next morning that he realized that he hadn’t asked for her last name.

* * *

A few days after the ball, a messenger came to Krem saying that Josephine was looking for him. He found her in her study, drafting a letter of gratitude to the empress for ‘such a lovely party’ as she put it.

“You wanted to see me ambassador?” Josephine looked up from her letter.

“Yes. You made quite the impression on many of the ladies at the Winter Palace. Several of them have sent me letters enquiring about your background.” Krem tensed. “I just wanted to ask your permission to respond to them. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.” Krem released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“Thank you ambassador. I would prefer my private life to be _kept_ private.”

She smiled. “Of course, I understand. Oh, before I forget,” She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a couple of envelopes. “Several of them sent letters to you as well. I apologize that you did not get them directly, but we needed to make sure that none of them contained anything malicious. We don’t want any of our allies coming to harm if we can prevent it.”

Krem took the small stack of letters and placed them in his pocket without looking at it. “Thank you for your concern ambassador. Was there anything else?”

“No, nothing that I can think of,” she replied absentmindedly. He saluted and left to continue his duties. It wasn’t until that night in the tavern that he took a look at the letters. He skimmed over a few of them boredly until he came to the last one. He pulled out the letter out and turned it over, eyes widening. It was not the paper itself or his name neatly penned across the envelope that caught his attention, but the scent of violets that wafted from the paper. Without looking at the seal he tore the envelope open, heart beat racing. The handwriting within was far less precise and neat than the envelope, as if the writer were in a hurry.

 

_Dear Ser Cremisius,_

_I fear that in all the excitement of that evening I forgot to inform you of how to contact me. My sister would be scandalized by my rudeness. I hope this letter finds you in good health. If I am to teach you to dance you need to be! I am terribly sorry for the state of this letter but with all my classes I have little time to write._

_If you wish to contact me you may do so by sending messages through my sister. Please do send letters, for I am not often allowed many adventures and telling me of yours will tide me over my dull studies._

_Yours with affection,_

_Yvette Montilyet_

 

“Hey Krem, what you got there?” Krem jumped, so intent on reading that he didn't notice Bull sitting down next to him, two pints in his hands.  He blushed and reflexively clutched the piece of paper to his chest.

“It’s nothing! Nothing at all!”

Bull noticed Krem’s blush and grinned. “Oh really! With a face like that it can’t be nothing! Is it a naughty love note from one of the girl’s at the ball? Come on, show me!”

“No,” he stuffed the letter back into his pocket.

“Come on.”

“No Chief.”

Bull put his hands up in defeat. “Alright, fine. Keep your secrets to yourself.”

Krem didn’t look at the letter again until well after the tavern. He took another look at it again just as he went to sleep that night. He traced his fingers over her name, a smitten grin tickling the edges of his mouth.

“Yvette Montilyet,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

Wait a second.

Montilyet?!

“Oh bugger.”


	2. The Right Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem attempts to write the prefect response to Yvette's letter. It turns out to be harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to thepaganjew for helping me with characterization!

Krem didn’t sleep well that night. 

Yvette Montilyet.

_Montilyet_.

He had been swept up by the fancifulness of the palace and his dreams. This was very real and a little frightening.

He groaned as the dawn light spilled across the canvas of his tent. So much for sleeping. Krem rose and dressed before leaving his tent to start breakfast. As he started a fire and began to heat some left over gruel, Krem heard Bull’s heavy footsteps draw closer.

“Morning Chief.”

Iron Bull made a noncommittal grunt in greeting. The Qunari was not a morning person, favoring to sleep in as late as he could. Unfortunately he had promised to give pointers to Cullen’s troops and that meant getting up at the “ass-crack of dawn”, as Bull put it. Bull sat down next to him, hiding his face in his hands to shield his eye from the morning sun. The two sat in silence for a few minutes while Krem stirred the gruel in the pot.

“So…” Krem began awkwardly. “Remember that letter I got yesterday?” 

“Mmm,” Bull grumbled behind his hands. 

“You were right, about who wrote it.” Krem scratched the back of his head. “It was from one of the ladies at the Winter Palace.”

Bull peaked out from behind his hands, a small smirk on his face despite his bleary eye. “I knew it. I knew it wasn’t nothing.” Krem could hear the self-satisfaction in the Qunari’s voice.

“Yeah, alright. Lay off,” Krem grumbled, waving the spoon in his hand in Bull’s direction. “She wants me to write back.”

“Well, are you?” Iron Bull lowered his hands to look Krem full in the face for the first time that morning. Krem now had Bull’s full attention.

Krem thought for a moment. “Yes?” he replied, the word sounding more like a question than an answer.

“Good,” Bull fixed his lieutenant with a searching look, “But it sounds like you’ve got something on your mind. Doubts?”

“It’s just…” Krem struggled to find the words. “She’s Josephine’s younger sister.”  

Iron Bull’s face lit up with a grin that threatened to crack his face in half.

“You sly dog!” He slapped Krem on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with that?”

Krem struggled to find the words. “She’s a Montilyet.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“She’s a noble from a well-respected house and I’m,” Krem gestured to himself. “A mercenary. Not exactly proper courting material.”

“You’re giving yourself too little credit.” Bull pointed to Krem. “If she’s the girl you spent most of the evening with, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve been on cloud nine ever since the ball, and she looked the exact same way.”

The lieutenant hit Bull on the arm. “You were spying on me! You said you weren’t spying that night!”

Bull gave him a cheeky grin. “C’mon, it was so boring! Besides, I needed to make sure my lieutenant was safe. So,” he waggled his eyebrow, “you going to write back to her?”

Krem hummed in thought. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe,” he fiddled with the spoon’s handle. What would he even write about if he did write to her? Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice anything until Bull spoke again.

“Krem?” 

“Yeah Chief?”

“You’re burning breakfast.”

“Oh, shi-” Krem grabbed a rag and hastily pulled the pot off the fire. The smell of burnt gruel filled his nose, and he scrunched up his face. “Dammit.”

Bull started laughing uproariously.

“Shut it!” Krem waved the spoon at Bull, splattering the Qunari with gruel. Bull just laughed harder.

* * *

Krem thought about writing to Yvette on and off all day, resulting in a number of injures during drills. For all his talk of his adventures at the ball, the day-to-day life in a mercenary company was not particularly exciting. He doubted she would want to hear about weapon drills or mending his armor. He found himself sitting in the library the next day, staring at a blank sheet of parchment and tapping a quill he borrowed from Dorian against the table. He frowned.

The page was blank save for Yvette’s name scrawled across the top. What to write? He bounced ideas back in forth in his head. The recent mission to the Hinterlands? No, the letter might get intercepted and fall into the wrong hands. A love note would be too forward at this stage, he didn’t want to unsettle her. Poetry was out of the question. The extent of his poetry skill was limited to a dirty limerick or two he had heard during his military days. Krem kicked the chair across from him, scattering a few crumpled up balls of paper: his previous attempts. Who was he kidding, it took several pages before he decided on how to write her name! At this point it would take all the paper in Skyhold to even attempt to write a full letter.

The mercenary sighed.

“Something troubling you?”

A lesser man would have jumped in his seat, but the telltale clinking of the ridiculous number of buckles and bits on Dorian’s clothing gave him away.

“Just trying to figure out what to write. It’s harder than it looks.”

“Nonsense,” the mage slid the latest draft of Krem’s letter closer to read. “You just put one word in front of the other and you’ve got your message.”

Krem glared up at Dorian, more annoyed than angry.

“You’ll have to pardon me, I haven’t had much practice. Can’t learn to be poetic without a bunch of fancy books and teachers telling you how to write properly.”

The fellow Tevene’s attitude caught Dorian’s interest.

“This must be a very important letter if it’s got your feathers all ruffled. Is this about Lady Josephine’s sister?”

Krem groaned into his hands. “Bull and his big mouth.”

Dorian laughed. “I’d have to agree. I don’t know how he ever became a Ben-Hassrath, given the way he talks. So,” Dorian leaned on the table. “What are you going to say?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know.”

“That would explain the new floor decorations.” The mage joked as he kicked a crumpled note across the floor. “Have you tried poetry, gifts, jewelry? From what I’ve heard it seems to work wonders, at least in Varric’s tales.”

“I’m just trying to say hello!” Krem stood up, his blush visible even in the dim light. 

“Fine. You could always just tell her about yourself.”

“But that’s…boring.”

Dorian raised a brow incredulously. “Boring? With the raucous company you keep? I can guarantee she’s never experienced half of your everyday life. It would at least be different from all the parties and studying she encounters daily. At least try it.”

Krem paused, thinking.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Dorian smiled kindly and rose to leave. 

Krem deliberated for a bit before he settled on talking about his week, just the little things that happened. He wrote about Rocky trying to wheedle an extra pint out of the tavern maid, about a diamondback game where he had won a few royals. Before he knew it, the page was filled with his messy, but legible handwriting. Squeezed in at the edge of the paper he signed it:

_Yours,_

_Cremisius Aclassi_

He smiled, feeling his heart fluttering and chest grow warm. This was really happening. The only thing left to do was give it to Josephine so she could send it to Yvette.

Krem tensed.

Maker’s breath, he hadn’t thought about that.

* * *

Krem paced back and forth in the tavern, bouncing ideas back and forth with his fellow Chargers on how he should give the letter to Josephine.

“You could threaten the messenger into delivering it without the ambassador knowing,” Skinner suggested.  

“Do you think I should sneak it in?” Krem asked. “Under a pile of letters, maybe give it to the messenger as they leave?”

Bull propped his chin onto his hand. “I think you should just give it to her.”

Krem frowned, tapping the letter across his hand. “Some help you are.”

The Qunari sighed. “I’m just saying it’s best to face this head on. It’s only going to get worse if you go behind Josephine’s back.”

“You’re a terrible spy, you know that?”

Bull swatted at Krem playfully.

“I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. You’re sending the letter to Josephine’s sister, not her.”

Krem sighed. “What if Josephine doesn’t approve?”

“Really?” Bull asked, giving him an incredulous look. “That’s what’s got you worried? You’re not giving Josie enough credit. I mean, c’mon. She’s courting Boss.”

“She’s courting the Herald of Andraste. I’m just a bloody mercenary.”

“Asaara would contest that. Boss is Vashoth, a mercenary, _and_ an apostate,” Bull countered, ticking off each of the Herald’s characteristics by lifting a finger. “You’ve got this, hands down. ”

Krem stopped tapping the letter against his hand, an idea popping into his head.“The Inquisitor! That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Dalish asked.

“I’ll give the letter to the Inquisitor. It’s perfect!”

Bull rubbed his temple. “Care to share? ‘Cause I’m not really following.”

“I give the letter to the Inquisitor, then she gives it to Lady Josephine! That way I’ll already have her Worship’s approval and it might convince the ambassador!”

“You really think that’s going to work?”

Krem didn’t hear Bull as he was already out the door and heading out to look for Asaara.

* * *

Krem found the Inquisitor in the stables arguing with Horsemaster Dennet.

“I’m fine with all the horses— even the harts— but all these odd beasts you keep putting in my stables. First the living corpse, then that glowing skeleton beast, and now a bloody dracolisk? The rest of the horses are getting anxious with them all around.” Horsemaster Dennet’s voice rose as he talked.

Asaara frowned. “Can’t you move Sata and Blue to the outside pen? Atashi would be better in one of the back stalls, he’s shy.” 

Dennet was about to respond when Krem cleared his throat.

“Inquisitor?”

Asaara turned and nodded to Krem before telling Dennet that they would discuss stabling later. Krem fidgeted with the letter in his hands. The Horsemaster grumbled under his breath before heading into the stables.

“Trouble?” Krem asked.

“It’s nothing,” Asaara waved it off. “Master Dennet’s just a little spooked by a few of the mounts. Don’t know why though, they’re completely harmless.” As she said this one of the aforementioned beasts popped its head over the stall door. Krem couldn’t help but stare at the skeleton wreathed in blue light. Asaara pet the beast’s muzzle. “So, what do you need?”

Krem tore his eyes away from the strange creature. “I was wondering if you would give this to Lady Josephine.” Krem stopped fumbling with the letter and handed it to her. Asaara flipped over the letter to look at the address.

“This is addressed to Yvette Montilyet.”

“Yes,” Krem shifted uncomfortably. “Yvette told me to give it to Lady Josephine.”

“And you’re giving it to me because…?”

“Well it’s just that Lady Josephine is Yvette’s sister and…”

“Oh, I get it. Older siblings. It’s the same way with my cousin and I. No problem,” Asaara smiled, patting his shoulder. “I’ll make sure Josephine gets it.”

Krem released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Thank you, your Worship.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure this gets to Yvette.”

* * *

Later that afternoon Asaara visited Josephine in her office. She rapped her knuckles on the door, rocking back on her heels. 

“Come in,” she heard through the wood. Opening the door, she found Josephine was sitting at her desk, intently writing. Josephine smiled as she heard the familiar footsteps. “Just a moment my love, I need to finish this.” 

Taking the greeting as an invitation, Asaara sat in a chair on the other side of the desk and watched her work. She couldn’t help but smile. How lucky she was to be with Josephine. The Antivan finished penning her letter and looked up to find Asaara staring at her. “What is the matter? Do I have ink on my face?”

“No, I’m just staring in awe at the most beautiful woman in the world.” Josephine giggled behind her hand.

“Flatterer.” Josephine set the letter aside to dry. “Now was there a reason you stopped by to see me, or do you intend to distract me for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Oh, right!” Asaara pulled a letter out of her pocket. “Krem asked me to give this to you to send to your sister.” 

“Oh, really?” she smiled, plucking the letter from his hands. “I was wondering when I would receive this. Yvette has been sending letter after letter asking about Ser Cremisius. I’m glad to see he returns her affections, at least I hope so. She was quite taken with him at the ball. I will make sure that she gets it. Though I wonder why he did not give it to me directly.”

“Maybe you scare him.”

“Me? Why would I scare him?” Josephine asked. 

Asaara looked at her incredulously.

“Does Count Duka ring a bell? Last I checked even his future grandchildren will be banned from Empress’ Celene’s court based on your connections. You’re a force of nature when you want to be. He must think you’ll sick Leliana’s spies on him.”

“Why would he think- I would never-” the ambassador flustered. “Besides, I have no idea what you have against Leliana. She is a perfectly lovely woman.”

“Yes, but you’re not on her bad side," Asaara countered.

“I will have to talk to her about that. Now, shoo. Both you and I have work we need to do.”

Asaara pouted. “If you insist.” She rose from her seat. “Oh, by the way, there is something on your face.”

“Where?” Josephine brushed her face.

“Right here.” Asaara leaned over the desk and kissed her on the cheek. She leaned back, a huge grin lighting up her face.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine exclaimed, blushing brightly.

“Back to work, right?”

Josephine leaned over her desk, grabbed Asaara by the lapels of her vest and pulled her back, kissing her soundly on the mouth.

“Back to work,” Josephine echoed breathlessly.

“Ok,” Asaara replied, blinking in a stunned fashion. “See you at dinner then?”

“Yes.”

Asaara left, tripping on a flagstone on her way out.


End file.
